Cruel Wanting
by Scarlett Rogue
Summary: Anders can't stand it anymore; Hawke is so close, and yet so far. And Anders isn't strong enough to keep pushing her away. Alternative "Romance" scene.


**Summary: Anders can't stand it anymore; Hawke is so close, and yet so far. And Anders isn't strong enough to keep pushing her away. Alternative "Romance" scene.**

**Rated: T...Idk why**

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><p><em>"I have nothing left<br>And all I feel is this cruel wanting.  
>We've been falling for all this time<br>and now I'm lost in paradise."  
><strong>~"Lost in Paradise" by Evanescence <strong>_

Anders leaned against a table in the Hanged Man, ignoring the Maker-aweful stench of cheap ale and vomit in favor of watching his companions enjoy themselves. Anders would have loved to drown his sorrow in alcohol, to resurrect the man he lost a few years ago, but he had patients who needed attending to in the morning, and he couldn't afford to be intoxicated for even one night.

Besides, he was happy enough watching his friends laugh and spill their drinks all over each other. Varric was perhaps the most entertaining; the Dwarf could drink anyone there under the table and still manage to spit out a coherent sentence. The only thing alcohol did was make him even more witty and quick-tongued.

Merrill, too, was a sight to see, but in the exact opposite way than Varric. The sweet little Dalish Elf was only on her second pint but she was still hiccuping every few seconds and sitting contently on Aveline's lap. The Guard Captain had her arms wrapped protectively around her friend, smiling slightly at Varric's comments and ignoring Isabela completely.

Anders couldn't really blame her. _He_ was ignoring Isabela, too.

The Ravaini couldn't keep her hands off Hawke tonight. She was usually very handsy, but alcohol made her so outwardly slutty that she had gone as far as straddling Hawke and trying to lift the Champion's shirt up while simultaneously biting at her neck. Normally Anders liked Isabela (if for no other reason than the fact that she lived each day in the present rather than letting her past eat at her) but tonight he had to keep his hands firmly behind his back.

It would benefit no one if he randomly shot a fireball at Isabela. Well, no one but him, of course.

"Hey Blondie, come and join us!" Varric held a glass out for Anders but he shook his head.

"No thanks, Varric. I need my sanity tomorrow morning."

"In that case, it would be in your best interest to have a drink, seeing as you're usually completely mental when you _don't_ drink," Fenris muttered. Everyone was trying to stay away from Fenris after discovering that he was a very bitter drunk. At one point Merrill got mad at him for trying to spoil the night, and promptly threw a sword at him.

They also learned to keep the weapons away from Merrill when she was drinking.

"Seriously, Anders, don't be such a stick in the mud!" Isabela giggled while sliding her hand up Hawke's thigh. Anders felt his jaw tighten and knew he had to get out of there. He spun on his heel and practically ran out of the pub, feeling Justice stir to the surface.

When he was outside he leaned against the wall and stared up at the sky. Stars peeked out from behind thick dark clouds as Anders attempted to wipe the images from his mind.

Why would the Maker allow him to fall in love with a woman that he couldn't have? It was cruel, like holding food a foot away from a chained and starved man, and every once in a while bringing it closer only to pull it back again. It was killing him.

He didn't want to hurt Hawke; he knew it was selfish to want her so bad. But he wanted her like he wanted oxygen. Everything about his life made him wish he could go back in time and run when Justice made him the offer, or simply walk out of this town and walk until he was too tired and lost to remember why he started walking in the first place. Everything but Hawke. She gave his life meaning.

"You're pouting again," a voice next to him whispered in the dark. Anders blushed when Hawke touched his face, smoothing her hand down the frown lines around his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I was lost in thought."

"I could see that." Together they sat in the dirt, close enough to touch. "Anything you want to talk about?"

_Yes! It's you; you and your ridiculous sense of humor and beauty and bravery and that body that is sitting way too close right now!_

"I appreciate it, but no. I'd rather keep it to myself." He felt Marian's hand on his face again, only this time she pulled his face toward her. There was a soft, searching look in his eyes that made him uncomfortable. It was too personal, too private.

"I'm not interested in Isabela."

"I never said you were," Anders responded quickly, trying to hide the happiness dancing in his eyes.

"You didn't have to. I know you way better than you give me credit for." She settled down so close that their sides were pressed together, her hand still holding his face gently. He could feel her breath tickle his face.

"I...I'm just concerned for you. She'll only hurt you." He tried to look away and hide his shame. It was true, Isabela was a heartbreaker. But it was stupid for him of all people to say this; if he had his way, Hawke would be his right now, but he was the biggest heartbreaker of them all.

"I know that," Hawke muttered. Anders felt like he was becoming intoxicated and couldn't decide whether it was from the liquor on her breath or just the proximity. "I have no interest in her."

"Why are you telling me this?' Anders whispered. Maker, she was toying with his emotions!

"Because I hate seeing you hurting over a romance that never happened. And by that, I mean Isabela and I. Though, I suppose you _could_ be hurting over another romance that never happened." She dropped her hand and climbed onto his lap.

"What are you-" his words were silenced by the gentle press of her lips against his. For approximately two seconds he was screaming at himself, remembering his plans and knowing she would be hurt in the process, but he pushed them away. He was still a man, and he had given Hawke every reason not to want him. If she wasn't going to give up on them than neither was he.

Her lips parted and he could taste the alcohol on her breath as her tongue darted out, pushing his lips apart and dancing with his own all-too-eager tongue. She wrapped her legs around his waist, one hand unbuckling his coat so that she could touch the warm skin of his chest. He completely gave in to his desire and ran his fingers through her short black hair, loving the soft moan that escaped when he stroked her neck.

She pulled back to press soft, light kisses against his neck, and for some reason this felt so much more intimate than the mini-make out session they just had. He held her close to him, rubbing circles on her back, and feeling close to tears because of the sheer amount of happiness he felt.

He would come to regret giving it later, but for now he let himself be happy. He was holding his whole world in his hands; he may not realize it later, but he knew it right now.

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><p><strong>Hmm...I actually really don't like this. Had an idea in my head but then it went in a direction I didn't plan for it to, and I'm not happy with that. Anyway, tell me what you thought, please!<strong>


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